Baptism by Fire
by Elfkid
Summary: Caught between a rock in a hard place, XMan Nina is forced to kill a violent mutant to save a team member and the repercussions are felt throughout the entire Xfamily. Features 5 OCs & is OreO friendly.
1. Nina

This story takes place in the Macbethverse and is dedicated to Lady Macbeth ,as with the exception of Gambit and Storm, these are all her original characters. This was her birthday present! Nina, Louis, Isadora, and JD are the spawn of Gambit and Storm, belong to Lady Macbeth and were used with permission. Gambit and Storm belong to Marvel. Vincent has two mommies- Me and Macbeth!

Please R&R, I realize it is taxing to read OCs that you have no attachment to but please let me know what you think with how I pulled it off. Oh, and anyone know who Vincent's real mom is?

_Nina_

It's 98 degrees out, mild for Cairo but that doesn't ease the frying feeling all over my body. The high noon sun is blazing, my black uniform is sticking to my skin while sweat droplets drip down from my temples, tickling my cheeks on their way to my chin. The back of my hand wipes across my forehead and I am immediately disgusted with the moisture on my leather glove, wiping on my pants before taking another generous gulp of water from the canteen at my side.

I can literally watch the tar bubbles pop on the roof I'm perched upon, although I really should be observing the ground below. What I wouldn't give for the nice shade of a book depository right now.

There's a crackling on the intercom, Isadora's voice breaking through the static:

SZHKKK_ You holding up ok in this heat?_SZHKKK

I push the com link button, "The sooner I can shower the better- I feel like a slug."

SZHKKK_ More like escargot in this heat._SZHKKK She laughs slightly and I smile to myself in return, SZHKKK_ Won't be long now, Vince is moving to position. Stay on your toes._SZHKKK

"No problem." I answer, greeted by only silence. I can't have expected her to carry on an entire conversation. I peer into the scope of my PSG-1 rifle once more, still waiting for Vince to arrive to talk to this mutant informant.

I begin to wonder how I got handed watch duty but I know why. It all boils down to my abilities or rather, lack thereof, as the sole non-mutant member of our team. A slight smile forms when I recall telling my parents I would follow in their footsteps, and my older siblings, by way of fighting for Xavier's dream- peace between human and mutants.

Dad was more than livid, me being the baby of the family (a daddy's girl at that) and mom wasn't too keen, yet at the same time, understood my motives, as much as she did not like them.

It is no secret there is a strong desire within the women of my mother's family to be our own person. Grandma – a princess- left her village in Africa to become a scholar in the states, Mom left a life as goddess to make the world a better place as an X-man, even Isadora, my older sister, decided her place was among the X-men; it was only a matter of time I made my way as well.

Just when I begin to think I'll die of heat stroke before I can be useful, there's movement and finally, I crouch forward, observing the scene below through my scope once more, Vincent walking casually down the sidewalk, tossing a cigarette to the side carelessly and adjusting his sunglasses. His shoulder length brown hair is ratty as usual, and his posture more rigid and assertive, rather than the trademark slouch of the slacker he tries to play.

I have no doubts this will go over smoothly, but Isadora insisted I provide back up on the roof, given the nature of this mutant's abilities, and I am our munitions master. I should be used to this by now, playing back up. Sometimes I wish I could go out on the front lines with everyone else but mom and dad would kill Isadora if I got hurt.

Of course, Vince volunteered to go in to question the informant, citing his defensive strength powers and undercover experience. I am suddenly thankful I have the chance to watch him from this distance without him seeing the drenched sweaty mess I am.

He meets up with a bronze skinned man- he's tall, lean, and sports a tattoo of the blazing sun over his left eye and a distinct scar from his left ear down his jaw. The tattoo is the unmistakable mark of the Akkaba Covenant, a modern take of a cult that worships Apocalypse.

I lean in closer, stretching my fingers as I pull the fingerless gloves up against my wrists and rest my finger on the trigger, as I have found myself having done so many times before. But this time, something's different, my heart pounds and my stomach ties in knots from the adrenaline in my veins. I suddenly feel Isadora was right in her suspicions, why would a man marked by the Covenant be seen publicly, talking to a stranger like this?

They shake hands and the Akkaban produces some papers, which Vince of course scans over in front of him. A bead of sweat trickles into my eye, stinging it and I rub the pain away, my blurred vision readjusting and I unconsciously stick my tongue out as I concentrate on the scene before me, receiving the bitter taste of salt in my mouth.

As Vince's brown hair spills over the front of his vision, head bent over the documents, the Akabban begins to shift his weight, his eyes, once a normal green, shadow over to completely blank obsidian orbs.

"Come on Vince… look up… look up…" I murmur, finger poised over the trigger. "Please don't make me do this."

As if hearing my plea Vincent looks up in time to receive a harsh blow to his face, sending him into the street. People scream and scatter, and I can't get a clear shot of the mutant and I begin to wonder if I can actually pull the trigger.

SZHKKK_ Nina… What's going on? There's a stampede out here! _SZHKKK Isadora practically shrieks in my ear. There's no time to answer as I try desperately to find my mark.

I watch as Vince rights himself, wiping blood from his nose and I can tell he's concentrating, most likely recalling his imprint of enhanced strength just as another blow comes to him.

He lunges for the Akabban, and wraps his hands around his throat, attempting to drain the energy from the man but it's not working! If anything, his attempt is fueling the man's strength, and there is a deafening crack as the man lands a solid punch to Vince's chest, sending him hurdling 12 meters down the road way. His body crumples on the ground, like a rag doll, a cloud of dust and dirt settling around him.

"_NINA!" _Isadora screeches.I rip the ear piece off of my head and run down the length of the roof, jumping over the edge and sliding on my side, down the hot tin metal of a neighboring building, ignoring the burning of my skin through my cottons shirt. Repositioning my aim, gun trained on the Akkaban.

The informant plucks Vince off of the ground effortlessly, holding his limp body suspended in the air with a vicious leer on his face, his other arm extending to exert all of his strength into Vincent's face.

Can I kill this man? In the blink of nano-seconds, visions of my childhood blur before me, of more innocent times and less complicated matters, where I was daddy's little girl. One choice put me on the path to this life, and I know there is no going back.

I live in a world where split second decisions have eternal repercussions.

Time slows to a crawl and I squeeze the trigger.


	2. Isadora

_Isadora_

Why is it when I am in the most angering of situations, I produce my best works? Sitting at the baby grand piano, hands flying across the keys faster than I know what my fingers are doing, picking out the correct notes to paint the story of the day, I utilize the art of staccato for all it's worth with quick, perfunctory jabs on the keys, the awkward yet justifiable tone of sharps and flats filling the room around me. I do not even know what I am trying to accomplish but rather let my subconscious enjoy its reverie while my conscious ponders the situation.

After we arrived home from Cairo, I remember ordering a blood drenched Vincent down to the Medi-lab to await Louis arrival and I was probably meaner than I should have been. I've been told I take after Uncle Scott that way, allowing duty to preclude emotion. When I turned to address Nina, she had already slipped away.

After a 20 minute search with no leads, I found her in the greenhouse on her knees, her thin frame hunched over, shaking with sobs beside a bloomless rose bush. My attention was ripped away from her and my eyes stared at the plant like it were a poison.

That rose was a species she had cross bred entirely on her own, a hybrid of the cream and pink 'Cajun Sunrise' and the red and gold 'Out of Africa,' two species of Tea Rose she had explained to me, cultivated solely for the purpose of our parents upcoming 30th anniversary and a tongue in cheek effort towards our parents heritage but it had given her nothing but trouble since she started it, having never produced a single bloom.

The bush was planned 4 years ago when she just entered college for Botany, and learned about cross pollination, and is solid proof of the type of person Nina is- clever, determined, nurturing, and thoughtful. She is not cynical, cruel or murderous in the least, and that saddens me more for the situation.

There I stood paralyzed, not from the sight of her, but just the presence of that rose bush cut me deeper than its thorns ever could, and I fled to find myself with my music, only to find me very lost in thought.

Is it so wrong the rose bush, mocking me in my procrastination, bothered me more than the fact a man is dead?

"It's not wrong…" I tell myself. _"It is absurd."_

"Are you trying to bruise the keys?" Sean, my husband, pokes his head in the study, looking over me carefully with those beautiful emerald eyes of his. He never interrupts me when I'm composing, but he knows something is wrong this time. More wrong then I let on when I first told him of the mission in Cairo. "It's been two hours. How about you come in the kitchen and help me with lunch? We can talk more about it."

Sean also knows I am not much of a chef. Me 'helping him make lunch' basically means I sit and taste test while he produces dishes that put Martha Stewart to shame. Nothing sounds better to me at the moment. "Sure." Closing the top to the piano keys, I eject the disc from the piano's computer recorder and hastily write 'Ninymphony' on the outside of its case, a self satisfied smile at my cleverness forming.

Maybe I will give it to her later.

In the kitchen, I watch from my perch leaned against the soapstone counter island as Sean digs through the cupboards, pulling out various herbs and spices, a cutting board, and vegetables from the fridge. I never tire of watching him, admiring him just for being a living, breathing, beautiful man that loves me as Isadora, not as Surge: field commander.

Sometimes, I like to remember when we were children, one particular memory surfacing while I watch him stir an herb mixture with a fork. We were only eight years old, playing X-men in the backyard, and as usual, I was my mom and he played as Uncle Logan (plastic forks taped to his wrists for realism). I now understand why my father tried vehemently to convince him to play as Gambit instead, even going so far as to bribe him with ice cream promises but at the time, Sean just narrowed his eyes and said with his 'Logan growl', "Claws are cooler than cards, bub!" before he promptly 'eviscerated' my father who was, unknowingly, our Magneto at the time, while I finished him off with a 'monsoon' provided by the water hose.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

In our teens, we found out I was a mutant, really no surprise and if anything, he was disappointed he didn't get a cool power. That was our first big fight. I was 15, him 16 and we had been dating for 8 months when I broke down under the pressure of trying to control my energy channeling and his perceived "lack of sympathy". He apologized by making me Tiramisu, the most heavenly rendition of it I have ever tasted- and his first publicly exposed cooking experience.

Since then, I tease him his mutant power is in his ability to turn random crap into an irresistible 3 course gourmet meal.

"What are you making?" I ask, sorry that I am not very interested but still thankful for his company.

"Cornish Hens. But I'm torn between Crayfish stuffed or French Style…"

I shoot him a look of disgust. "You stuff those with Crayfish and I will stuff _you_." He knows my disdain for crayfish. Despite my Cajun upbringing, it is the one thing that just disgusts me to no end. "What's in the French Style?"

"Not Crayfish." He grins, quartering an orange and I study the small muscles in his arms working with the motion, "Did you call your parents yet?"

"No."

"You need to." He answers neutrally, handing me a piece of the orange to snack on.

"I know." I suck the juice out of the orange segment by pressing it to the roof of my mouth with my tongue, just as I've always done since I was a child. "I don't know how to bring it up to them. Nina's the baby, dad nearly self destructed when she broke the news of coming here, and you weren't there when he pulled me aside, telling me to keep an eye out for her, keep her out of trouble. And I'm the one who put her up there, taking that gamble and losing. I don't know how I can face that."

"Your issue is clearly you, and not Nina."

The words sting with their truthfulness. "It hurts to hear it actually pointed out in my face like that." I smile weakly, to let him know I'm not angry.

Despite the grief in Nina, I can't help my mind from believing the ends justified the means and that in the big scope, is no big deal. This whole time, my biggest concern was dropping this bomb on my parents, letting them know that I failed them by failing Nina.

He continues, "I am not saying you are selfish, sweetie. As the leader out there when it happened, it's good to know you are owning up your responsibility but also know that Nina accepted that position whole heartedly- she wasn't up there for amusement purposes. If anyone should be blamed, it should be that jack-ass for attacking Vince."

I nod more in acknowledgement than agreement, walk over to him and kiss his pale cheek, stealing a sniff of his hair. "You used hair wax today didn't you, hon?"

"Yeah but don't mess…"

Too late, he's decorated with devil horns already and I head for the door.

He's frustrated, but still trying his damnedest not to laugh. "Very funny- undo it, I've got chicken hands!" Does he seriously not see the humor of him having his hair twisted into devil horns while holding up two bald chicken carcasses?

"I'm sorry babe, I want to give Nina something to cheer her up, then I'll check on Vince… and then I have a phone call to make. Rain check?"

He rolls his eyes, "The longer you take, the worse my revenge, I am preparing your food after all."

I smirk before giving him my 'Diva' goodbye, turning to wink at him and smack my rear end. "I'll risk it."

I skip ahead on my list; I'm never one to go by the numbers if they're my own creation, as long as the job gets done and gets done right, does the order particularly matter? That, and might as well get the hardest part over with. In the safety of my bedroom, I pick up the receiver and dial the numbers to home. Half wishing the machine would answer… not that this is the type of thing to leave on a machine, but allow me to mentally prepare more. Why am I so squeamish over this?

Third ring and the line picks up, my mother's voice over the line _"Hello?"_

"Hey mom, it's Isadora… I need to talk to you guys. Is dad there?"

"_No, he's at the shop and his line has been busy for quite some time. Is everything alright?"_

Within a second, all the words flow from my mouth too fast for her to interject and I ride the verbal wave. "Something bad happened… everyone's ok though, so don't worry about that but…. we need to talk. About Nina."


	3. Remy

_Remy_

The phone rings and I pick it up. It's Nina. She's out of breath and I can barely hear her over the welding in the background of my shop, I need to get her calm and find some quiet. "Wait… slow down, padnat. Take a few breaths… there you go… now, slowly, what all happened?" I shut the door to my office, the clinking of metal and roar of motorcycle engines immediately are cut off behind the solid oak. I collapse in the dark leather chair at the head of my desk, forcing my own mind to remain calm while my youngest daughter, holding back sobs, begins to pour out her story.

"_I killed a man, papa…_" she choked before bursting into tears again.

For an instant, I swore my heart stopped. A heavy load of realization washed over me in a warm shiver as one of my worst fears came to light, the rock and hard spot that every parent wishes their child may never face, and here I sat helpless, only able to listen to her tears with empty arms. "Oh Nina… I am so sorry, bebe."

Nina continued to struggle as she retold the story, me occasionally breaking in to encourage her. It was everything I _knew_ would happen with her joining the X-men. Even though I met the love of my life at Xavier's there was no doubt I had to walk through and endure a nearly endless hell to see that, and I never wanted that life for my children, especially not my little Nina, always daddy's little girl and the only one of Ororo and I's kids that is not a mutant. And I think it is that fact that drove her to Xavier's in the first place, determined to prove she was worth more than perceived as 'just human.'

"You were right, dad… I didn't listen… to you… I should've… I'm sorry…" she broke up into sobs again and I continue to console her over the line as I go on autopilot and search through my shop planner, shifting my appointments over to my other mechanics, freeing up my week so I can book a flight to New York to see her. My brain is concentrating on so many things I don't even realize I've given myself a paper cut and I curse inwardly when I realize she's blaming herself.

I suppose no matter how much experience a parent has, they can never counter act the drive of a child's will to prove that experience wrong with their own… but now was not the time for parental I told you so's. I swallow the lump in my throat, leaning over my desk to rest my hand across my eyes. "Don't say you're sorry honey, not to me."

"_No dad…"_

"Don't interrupt." The words are harsh but the tone is nothing of the sort, I just need to calm her down to get her to focus on the reality of the situation a so she can move past it. "Look at it this way. You didn't listen to me back then, but you can listen to me now."

A sniffle. _"Ok."_

"It was not your fault, you hear me? You were given a job, a precaution, and there was no way you or Izzy could have foreseen it would be necessary. The only person to blame is the man that attacked what's-his-name."

"_Vincent."_

I damn well know his name… but the name is a bitter pill to swallow considering who gave it to him. _Someday you'll outgrow that, Remy…_ not any day soon I hope. "Take it from me, I've been there- the blame rests on him alone, girl- I think you know that more than I do. You squeezed the trigger but if Vince wasn't about to die, I know you wouldn't have done it otherwise. Just don't make a cage for you to dwell in the rest of your life over it or you will forget who you are and what you're about." A brief flash of the Morlock tunnels appears in my mind. I suddenly feel so very old.

"_That really means a lot to hear you say that, but I feel so rotten inside."_

"That's normal, petite."

"I need something to take my mind off of it… what was that thing you told us gran-pere Jean-luc made you do when you lied to him?"

"Excavate the cellar?"

"_Not quite, that was the punishment but the punishment had a name- Pen… something." _

"Penance." My mouth is dry. She doesn't know I've been atoning my whole life for things none of the kids know about. I begin to wonder if I haven't done enough and my kids are being punished for the sins of their father.

"_Yeah, that's it."_

"That's something you do to equal out your sin, padnat. Taking something, you give back to right the wrong. Is that what you want to do?" Of all the things I had to pass to my daughter, it was self loathing.

"_It's an idea... a feeling really, that I might feel better. But even so, I think I'll just need time but to pass it, that would work."_ She sighs heavily. _"I'm gonna go. Can you do me a favor and tell mom? I don't feel much like being on the phone."_

"No problem. I'll head home and tell your mother what's going on, let her know you're down for the count with a nap. If she can't call you, she'll want to at least call JD. "

"_Any excuse to get him to pick the phone up, eh?"_

I chuckle. "If he'll pick it up. It's the dead of night over where he's at. You should get some rest so you don't make a liar out of me, talk to Louis or Izzy to straighten things out in the meantime. Your mom and I will be over there first flight out--"

"_Not for your anniversary!"_

I shrug, even though she can't see it. "We were just going to spend the time at home, dinner and a movie kind of thing. When you get to be our age, sometimes simpler is better."

She giggles. _"I'll see you soon dad. Thanks, for cheering me up and everything."_

"Anything for you padnat, you know that. Love you."

"_Love you too."_

The line drops as she hangs up and I set the phone on my desk, mind and body weary as I lean back once more in the chair to gather my senses. My little girl, my poor little Nina…


	4. JD

_JD_

"You're kidding me, Nina?! Wow." I pause as I climb out my apartment window onto the fire escape, cell phone warm against my ear. Middle of the night in Britain here and it's chilly out but it's only a cold to rosy the cheeks, not numb the limbs which is good because I get terrible reception in my flat. Mom continues to tell me the latest family gossip: Nina's kill

"_Just this afternoon. Vince is ok, he is beaten up slightly. Louis is examining him right now, but I asked your Aunt Jean to see her for therapy."_

"Ah, she's a big kid now, mom. She'll get over it." Uh oh, wrong words, now I'm in for the scolding of a life time. JD, open wide, stretch that leg up, insert foot- let the badgering commence!

"_So murder is no big deal to you?" _she hisses coldly.

"That's not what I said and it's not murder, it was self defense. It was practically a Mexican stand off. Her choices were the bad guy or Vince and in my opinion, as much as Vince grates my nerves, the bad guy always has to eat it one way or another." I pull a cigarette out of my coat pocket and light it as I watch people passing on the street below my apartment. I'm not much of a smoker but anymore when I'm on the phone with my parents, I need something do with my hands other than punch holes in the wall.

She sighs, that exasperated sigh she gets when she would much rather have me in person so she could strangle me herself. _"If you do not want to give her a call, then that is your prerogative but it would mean a lot to her to know she has moral support."_

"Mom, I didn't say I wasn't going to call. All I'm saying is she's 22. She has her whole life ahead of her, things happen. If she can't get over this, she shouldn't be an X-man."

"_The X-men aren't about killing, Jean David."_

"No, but it's happened before and it will happen again, you and dad have told me so much in horrifying stories of genocide and mad dictators. Quit babying her, she's out of college and on her own. All of us are now…"

There's a struggle on the line. _"JD? It's your poppa." _Dad's voice catches me off guard.

"Am I on speaker phone?!"

"_Non. I'm just keeping you two from ripping each other apart by commandeering the phone from your momma."_

"Thanks." I grumble.

"_Son, your mom just misses you. She's a bit frazzled right now, but she worries for you. We both do. WeI saw that photo piece you did on remaining Cold War fallout in Russia for the BBC-we're proud of you and I have it hanging in the shop."_

"Really? I was wondering if you guys got that. That article was such a success, they're keeping me freelance for future assignments- not a secure job yet, but it's work."

"_That's good news, make sure you don't burn out too soon on it though."_ Dad always has this skilled way of shifting the conversation, leveling me and my mother out. I don't even know how my arguments start with her, I think it's because I feel smothered. But dad, he understands me, even if it's an unspoken knowledge and he doesn't judge me.

"I doubt that'll happen for awhile." I take a drag on the cigarette. I know I haven't told mom and dad about Anezka, my journalist partner and current interest.

"_Now, I know you're busy but will you be making it home for the holidays this year?"_

"I don't know if I'll make it out. I'll try, but it depends on what the boss has me scheduled for at that time."

"_I understand. Send a card at least? So we can see what you look like- make sure you're eyes still look like mine or your hair's still brown and not graying…"_

"Of course, papa." I answer, giving him a little affectionate reverence with my childhood moniker for him.

"_I'll let you go now, pup."_

"Talk to you later."

"_Oh, and JD? Put out that cigarette."_

I can't help grinning. "Right, papa."


	5. Louis

_Louis_

When Isadora called to tell me the news, and request I come to the Institute to take a look at Vincent, I wanted to shake her through the phone and demand why she placed Nina on that roof top, was there really no other way to ensure Vince's safety? As the veteran, why was Dora not up there instead? Why wasn't I there to prevent it?

My normal routine is interrupted by my own unease; I am examining Vincent but my mind is most definitely on my baby sister. The sooner I can get this over with and make sure Nina is ok, the sooner I can relax, as if that were even possible for me.

No sooner do I walk through those sterile steel doors to the Medi-lab, it takes no effort to fall into my role as doctor. My wife, Lena, has more than once commented on my inability to enter a medical facility, even on my day off, without trying to form order of the chaos, nor can I avoid putting on that white coat and comforting weight of the stethoscope around my neck.

Yet things are different this time, I am sorely uncomfortable. This was my day off work, not that it bothers me, I give any excuse to exercise my medical knowledge, but the circumstance is gloomy and there is a part of me that does not do well with unexpected events.

Makes me wonder why I chose to be an ER doctor, but not regret it.

Right now, I am irritable beyond anyone has a right to exhibit and cannot find anything acceptable. It is absolutely angering that I am wearing blue jeans and gray suede sneakers with my lab coat instead of my khaki Dockers and polished black leather dress shoes. And I feel downright naked without a tie.

Yeah, Louis, blame your distraction on your attire, avoid the fact that you should have been there, so she didn't have to take out that degenerate.

"Is there any pain when I do this?" I gently move his bruised knee up and down, eliciting sharp inhalations and a few curse words from him. "I will take that as a yes." I answer, put off. Vulgar language is a pet peeve of mine. "Is it the surface bruising that hurts or is it internal?"

"Surface mostly, just caught me off guard when you moved it. It's when I breathed in hard that hurt the most." He manages hoarsely, pulling a strand of stringy brown hair behind his right ear.

I scan over the X-rays of his ribcage before me, noting the slightly darker spots on the bone. I still can't get over this kid's luck- if it weren't for Nina I would be performing an autopsy, yet I still cannot erase my own guilt in the matter. "Your ribs are completely intact, no fracturing whatsoever, but they are most likely bruised."

He shifts his weight, face scrunched in discomfort. "So what's that mean? Am I stuck on bed rest?"

"No, just don't overexert yourself. Avoid lifting heavy objects, extensive physical activity- your body will let you know your limitations when you start to feel that stabbing in your chest."

"At this rate, sitting still is my limit." He grumbled.

"You must try to at least walk around and remain active to an endurable extent. Despite the pain and the inclination to take shallow breaths, continue to use your lungs as you normally would because I would hate to use my other days off to treat you for pneumonia. If anything, utilize stretching exercises to regain your rib cage's elasticity."

"What about the pain?"

"Over the counter pain relievers will suffice." I realize the pen I have been writing with ran out of ink two sentences ago and throw it in the trash can beside me, once again trying to keep my mind focused on my work, conversing with him, and avoiding my self evaluation; the effort is taxing.

I rub my temples before turning to face Vincent once again, pulling out the Vacutainer cylinder and tubing to take his blood and snapping latex gloves on. He's shifting uncomfortably. "I'm afraid there's no getting out of this."

"Great. First the bastard tries to kill me with his hands and now I have to get poked because he might still kill me with his blood?!"

"Biohazard is biohazard. Left arm or right?"

Vince looks at both his arms, reluctant to sacrifice one, before giving up his left to me.

I find the vein and within moments, he's set up and blood is flowing into the vial. I think I'll keep it to myself I haven't done this since med school 4 years ago, it's like riding a bike but he would not see the humor in it. "So, the way I hear it, you're lucky to be alive."

"Yeah."

"I see your strength powers kept you from being mashed to a bloody pulp."

"Barely. I don't think I've been hit that hard in my life, not even in the Danger Room Juggernaut program. Nina saved me."

I withdraw the needle, pressing cotton to his arm where it was. "Hold this please. Have you talked to her since?"

"Nah, I was quarantined on the jet and had to get down here immediately to shower once we got back."

"Maybe you should."

"I'm sure she doesn't want to talk to me. Knowing your family they're taking up all her time right now anyway."

I'll take that backhanded compliment in stride today but I won't forget it. "G.B. Stern once said 'Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone.'" I place the bandage on his arm and discard my gloves. "Wait for 2 more days down here, and then you're good to go unless I find something abnormal in your blood."

"2 days?! Jeezus, Mary and Joseph, three Wise Men and an ass! Are you serious?!"

"As a heart attack. I'll fax your paperwork in from my hospital as soon as the results are conclusive- if I do not get to work on this now, you'll be down here longer than that."


	6. Ororo

_Ororo_

"You did not have to wrestle the phone from me." I say mildly, slumping to the bed like a disciplined child. 58 years old and I argue with my children, it's shameful. Remy sinks to the bed beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and I lean into his chest as we fall back. The feather comforter is heavenly. He says nothing and he doesn't have to, he's used to my irritable nature anymore and it's not fair to him.

"How are you holding up, Stormy?" he asks, stroking a hand through my long white hair. At least I never had to worry about that aspect of age.

I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers, "Still standing… well, when I choose to use my legs." I laugh lightly, considering we're lying on the bed.

"That's good."

I know, as well as he, that the added weight of Nina's situation is affecting a delicate balance within me, but I did not become a mom expecting my job to be easy. I have pushed my limits my whole life and why stop near my 60s? As a woman, I always thought menopause would be the worst of my body's issues at this point in my life but I found out as a mutant, and one with my particular abilities, age is extremely taxing on the soul.

Over the last decade, my powers have weakened, it started with needing several tries to get the desired effect right, in something even as simple as manipulating a thunder storm, and then the winds became weaker until I could no longer sustain flight. Anymore, I'm lucky enough if I can summon a breeze to cool me on a summer day. I am thankful at least Louis inherited my abilities but there is still a part of me that remains empty without my connection with the goddess.

And even then that would not be so bad if it were not for the weakening of my body. I just do not have half the energy I did even last year and I find myself spending more time sleeping than living.

I prop myself on my elbow, studying his handsome visage, the slight gray at his temples working it's way into his auburn hair, the creases at the corners of his eyes years of devilish grins... I will never fall out of love with this man. "I packed clothes for you. When does our flight leave?"

"11 tonight." His eyes narrow and he brings a hand to my cheek, "Are you sure you're doing ok? You're skin feels blazing…"

"Worry about Nina. You do not need to fuss over me."

"Stormy, you should see a doctor, I'll go with you…"

"If you keep it up, Nina won't be the only woman in the family having killed a man today…" I snap. "I am sorry. That was completely tasteless and uncalled for." He kisses me and I shiver with cold and squeeze him to me tightly. Goddess, where is my mind going in that I lash out at those most dear to me? "Remy… when all this is taken care of, and Nina is where she needs to be, could we please visit JD?"

"If he'll have us, I don't see why not."

I internalize my initial response, my immediate reaction is to decry that theory and pull the "I'm his mother" card. I hesitate and I lose it. "I'll give him a call later. Mostly to apologize, and run the idea by him. With no safety net." I glance at my husband and he shrugs before kissing my forehead.


	7. Vincent

_Vincent_

2 days of quarantine gave me a lot of time to not only plan my funeral (depending on what Louis found in my bloodstream), but debate my position on Nina. I cannot help feeling bad for her. She's technically the rookie, even if it's been 6 months since she came to Xavier's, but knowing how sensitive she is, I know she's taking this rough and I can't help knowing it's my fault.

I feel so stupid having let my guard down, even after Isadora warned me of his ability to create a power siphon. Because of my pride, I thought it would be no big deal to cancel his powers out, absorb him before he could absorb me, and now 4 bruised ribs say I'm an asshole for my ignorance of the difference between 'absorb' and 'siphon'.

When will I ever learn my arrogance tends to have a price? According to Kitty, never. But a lesson learned is added to the pile, transforming 'never' into 'someday', but I'd rather learn my lessons on my own time than at the expense of my teammates, especially one as delicate as Nina.

Nina and I have never been buddies but never been on each other's bad side. She's prim and refined, I'm the "rebel without a clue" as Logan dubbed me. I don't think we have much in common, to be honest. She's everyone's friend and me… not so much. For me, within 2 seconds, I know if I like you or not, just based on body language. But with her, I don't think I have any opinion and that is rare.

See, I try to understand Nina but we come from two entirely different worlds.

She is the only human in a family of all mutants but she comes from a sheltered childhood. That may be a bit harsh, but it's true. Parents were both X-men but gave up the life to raise a family- Ororo Munroe, former goddess, leader and weather manipulator and Remy Lebeau- he kinetically charges objects, though his specialties were 'thief and lady killer'- and I only say that because that's what his dossier says at the mansion, I suspect he wrote that himself. Now, me personally, I'd find it hard to give up this guaranteed adrenaline rush, but looking at Nina's mom, I don't blame her dad one bit- even in her late 50s, Storm's a fox.

After leaving the X-men, they popped out 4 kids- Isadora, the oldest, Louis, JD (the accident, as we tease him), and Nina. All kids were loved, mom stayed home to raise them, even after a long day in the motorcycle shop, dad helped them with their homework, all kids went to college and got their degrees, hell, all four of the Munroe-Lebeau offspring speak at least four languages! Helloooo, Ozzy and Harriet.

Then you have me, born and raised to be an X-man since infanthood. I met the first requirement just by being an orphan when they found me on their doorstep. I never knew my mother, who supposedly didn't know my father and my grandmother was a psychopath- literally- but had the sense to entrust me to the school. You could say I was property of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning until I turned 18.

A synchronized group effort, Jubilee and Everett Thomas raised me, Shadowcat trained me, and Professor Xavier educated me. Somewhere along the line, they couldn't weed out this stubborn streak which put me in the pickle I am in right now.

BZZZ! "_Vince?"_ It's Kitty's husky voice on the intercom.

"Yeah?"

"_Louis just called, you're all clear kiddo."_

"Thank God."

Since emerging from my medical prison, word around the mansion is Nina's really beaten herself up over this, and I really think I should say something to her to ease her conscious. People always say that killing bad guys looks a lot cooler on TV or in video games than it does in real life, but I tend to disagree from my experience a few days ago. Although I wasn't in Nina's position, it looked pretty damn sweet to me.

The whole time that bastard was after me, her eyes were trained on him but my eyes followed her, though I couldn't really move my neck at the time and had no choice. There are worse things a man could be forced to look at before he dies. The girl didn't miss a beat chasing after my mangled body down the dusty street, jumping from the roof a full story, sliding down the slant tin sheeting of the other building before bracing herself against the cornice and calmly aiming for the big lug.

Blood pouring down my nose and into my throat, body broken six ways from Sunday, I ignored the pain just enough to make the effort to turn my head and look into the black tar pits he called eyes. Oh yeah, he may have the sadistically cocksure grin in the moment, but I was going to savor the shock on that mad bastard's face when he died.

Instead, his head exploded like a rotten Halloween pumpkin, drenching me in his guts.

I fight nausea once more, gripping my stomach as my rib cage threatens to implode from the pain of my dry heaves. I am definitely going to need some therapy to live that nasty scene down but first… some Aleve, beautiful, blessed, wonderful pain killer Aleve, how I love thee.

Pulling the bottle from the kitchen cabinet, I read the label to find my dosage (I admit, I thought this stuff was only for old people with arthritis) and notice that side effects include stomach pain, heartburn, constipation, or dizziness… Dear God in Heaven, bring those sons-of-bitches on, all 4 at once, if it means you would get rid of this wretched stabbing pain in my sides.

Well, here's to hoping at least.

Just when I pop the caplet in my mouth and start to gulp water, I catch a glimpse of Nina entering the greenhouse across the lawn and practically kill myself by choking on my water. I dump the cup into the sink and head after her.

When I walk into the greenhouse, I feel slightly awkward as the mad piano music from the CD player hits my ears and the humid air clings to my skin. This isn't my domain by far. I probably haven't been in here more than 3 times in my life, come to think of it. Through the various tables set up, I spot her on her knees, hunched over a flower bed, humming softly along with the music. Her black hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, strands still escaping to rest against her cheeks. As I get closer, I realize, she's got a nice ass, or those shorts do a good job of emphasizing it; I better investigate.

I clear my throat, "Uh, hey Nina."

"Hey." She answers quietly, looking over her shoulder quickly and then returning her attention to her plants.

"About the other day…"

"What about it?"

"I want to say I'm sorry--"

"It wasn't your fault. I was put up there just in case, and 'just in case' happened." Her voice trembles slightly and she continues to act absorbed in her work and I sense her tension.

Dammit, why can't she just let me apologize and take the blame?! "No, Nina, it was my fault. Isadora warned me, I let my guard slip, it's my fault you had to kill him. I should've taken care of him but I failed."

She rolls her eyes wearily, "Ok, you can have the blame, take it, I don't want it." She pulls a dandelion weed out of the flower box and hands it to me.

Victory for Vince! Sort of… I think? "What's this?"

She turns her head up, her blue eyes are glistening slightly. "Penance: a punishment undergone in token of penitence for sin."

"You learn that in college?"

"No, from my father, he was raised Roman Catholic."

"And how is this showing remorse?"

"You will help me keep this garden flourishing, caring for and giving life to things that cannot care for themselves, why else did you think I was out here?"

"Because you have a BA in botany." I answer flatly.

She giggles slightly, not a generous full bodied laugh, but its proof enough she's healing. "Aren't you just a modern day Columbo?"

I shrug as she continues, "I like the greenhouse because it is the one place I can have my thoughts to myself, while doing something I enjoy."

"In that case…" I turn on my heel to leave and her hand snakes out, grabbing my pants cuff. I wonder if I keep walking if they'd fall down and I could just write it off as 'oops.' Vince, an attention whore? No way.

"Don't think you're getting out of here without helping me weed these beds. You were so adamant in taking the blame for… for…" she stumbles on her words and I help her.

"Just in case. We'll just call it that, ok?"

She runs this idea through her head a moment. "'Just in case,' huh? Hearing that, Louis will tell me you're only fueling my potential for psychological problems in the future."

"It'll be our dirty little secret." I wink, pulling a weed out of the flower box.

"Um… that's a flower, Vincent." She shakes a true weed at me, dirt clods pelting my arms as I try and figure out the difference between the weeds and the flowers- they look the same to me. "How about this, you grab the compost bag, and I'll pull the weeds, you can toss them in."

"I can just bring the bag to you and we can avoid that extra step…"

"No, we can't. It's your penance."

"I'm not Catholic…"

"Me neither. You owe me one so do it!"

It's not often Nina is assertive and it's kind of hot, so I find myself fetching the compost bag, trying to find other ways in my head to push her buttons. Then again, looking at her on her knees, deep in thought, dutifully caring for her garden, something clicks in my head and common sense prevails- for once in my life- and I get down on my hands and knees beside her, biting my lip to keep from screaming like a wuss when my weight settles on my hands- the Aleve is not as Godly as I thought.

"Can you show me which ones to pull?" I ask tentatively.

There's a puzzled look on her face and she places a piece of raven black hair behind her ear with a dirt coated glove, a smudge of potting soil gets on her cocoa tinted cheek and she doesn't flinch. Not often a girl doesn't mind dirt. "Sure. See the one with the segmented leaves, yellow flowers, and the forked stem?"

"Yeah." I grasp my hand around it, ready to yank it out of the dirt

"DON'T pull that one."

"You tricked me."

"You should have waited until I finished." She smiled warmly. I can't recall ever having been criticized and not taken it as an invitation for a fight to the death, but somehow, there's nothing condescending in her tone or anything in her words that could be mistaken for something else than friendliness.

"That is _Hypochoeris _but is commonly called 'Catsears'. It is the herb I grow in this bed. Now, see the one with the segmented leaves, yellow flowers and gray fuzzy seeds, but the stem is not forked?"

"Yeah."

"Pull that one. It is a dandelion."

"Aha, c'mere you dirty little bastard," I thunder overdramatically, dirt raining on Nina and I as I sport my flowery victim above my head.

"I appreciate your zeal, but you need to go about it a little more gently. It's a weed, not the spawn of Satan."

I'm severely tempted to tease her about asking me to be gentle, but she's better deserving than that, especially after Cairo. Discovering these new facets to her personality, she suddenly seems completely different to me. Not that Nina's ever been the wild woman Amazonian type or anything, but she's always held her own and has always been very neutral towards me and now, she's teaching me how to garden, a hobby I do not care here nor there for; because I need to work off my sin, the policy of a religion I do not partake in; and I'm doing it. With '_zeal'_.

The piano music continues it's ravenous pace before finally settling down slightly, it's nothing I recognize so I imagine it's something of Isadora's. Ugh, I'd rather not be thinking of my boss right now, even if she's a piano wizard.

"You know, back in Cairo, you looked pretty cool up there, like a Charlie's Angel or something." I blurt like the thick headed idiot I am. I wanted to thank her but somehow, in its transit between mind and tongue, the message got screwed up- why did I have to bring up 'just in case' again? A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she continues to work the flower bed.

"You're welcome." She answers, several minutes later, much to my surprise, with a shy grin.

I think I'm actually getting embarrassed. My eyes catch a bush with blue, red, gold and creamy flowers on it. "Is that a rose bush?" I've never really been into gardening but a guy would have to be a complete moron to not know what roses are- they're a dating staple, and a key in begging forgiveness as well. I just never knew they came in those colors or tie-dyed.

"Yeah, it's a failed project of mine." She doesn't look up as I examine the bush up close and is actually avoiding looking at it.

"Failed?! How did you get the roses to look like this?"

"What do you mean? It hasn't bloomed ever. It's a year overdue. I'm actually ready to compost it." There's bitterness in her voice and I just can't understand why.

"You're kidding right? Because it's looking more festive than the 4th of July."

She turns, brows knitted in frustration before her eyes widen at the sight of the plant. "Oh. My. God." She scrambles over, removing her gloves and touching the various flowers, feeling the leaves, I can see the wheels turning in her head and tears are in the corners of her eyes. "How did this happen?!"

I can't tell if she's upset or happy, "It's a good thing right? That it finally bloomed?"

"Yes… it's just… this isn't normal, even in the crossbreeding of the two plants…"

"Uh… I'm lost."

"This rose bush isn't found in nature, Vince. You could say I invented it… for my parents anniversary, it's a cross pollination of the Cajun Sunrise and the Out of Africa rose bushes. Both have reddish gold/creamy/orangey hues to them... and this…" she gestures to the whole plant, "Has colors not even shown in the parent plants!"

"It's a mutant then." I say, almost proudly.

She laughs, "Yes, it's a mutant."

"Have you named him yet?" 

"Named HIM? How do you know it's not a she?"

"Plants don't have genders. I'm not the botanist and even I know that- but he needs a name." I know I'm contradicting my self but I'm enjoying her reaction.

"Again with the he… Well, I suppose that it would require a Latin name…" she crossed her arms in thought.

"RemiusOrorous Anniversarius Plantus?" I offer.

"You never told me you were fluent in Latin," she teased.

"I try not to brag too much on my talents."

"Howie." She said, "His name is Howie."

"Howie is Latin?"

"No, but I think the text books can wait for finding proper nomenclature."

"I could be mistaken… but since you mentioned the origin of Howie, don't you think it's a bit odd that these flowers look like your siblings?"

"You're joking right?"

"No! Seriously! See this white, black and red one? That's JD. White, cream and red? That's Dora. And this one…" I point to the brown white and blue one, "Is you."

"How is that one not Louis? We have the same hair, skin and eyes." she asks skeptically, challenging me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Because his is the one that looks like yours but has the gray tips- for the needle he stabbed me with two days ago." I answer matter-of-factly and she laughs, fully, tears streaming down her face, one arm clutching her stomach, one hand over her mouth.

As she calms down, she looks up at me with a pursed smile, "Thank you for that. I would've never noticed any of that if it weren't for your unique… insight."

"No biggie. Look, I know we're not really friends and all but… I mean, I don't hate you, don't get me wrong, we just have never talked and you just seemed a bit unapproachable… not, not that you were mean, I guess… ah… shit." Where is my super ego when I need it?

"I know what you're trying to say, Vince, continue." She grins widely.

"Well, I don't know if you'd be into this but it's supposed to be a nice weekend and… do you want to go for a ride on my bike with me? Er, I mean, my motorcycle. Not my bike, that makes me sound like a middle school dork."

"You are a dork." She laughs. "But that's fine with me. Sure, I'd love to."

"Really? Wow, I didn't figure you the motorcycle type but thought it worth a try. Chicks dig motorcycles."

"Let the hot air out, I might dig your bike but it doesn't necessarily mean I'll dig _you._" She shakes a pair of what looks like giant pliers at me.

I clutch my chest, actually admiring her standoffish wit. "Ouch."

"You'll live, I never go for the kill, just like to watch them squirm. You know, I do know quite a bit about motorcycles, my father works on them. I'm not just a nerdy girl that likes to play in the dirt." She takes the 'pliers' and clips the rose away from the bush that 'looks like her' and hands it to me.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"As you said, we don't really know each other as friends, but I would like to get to know you better to- I enjoy your company. The bush will thrive without my flower on there, and there's enough of me invested in the plant already for the family to see at he 'unveiling' so… think of it as a token of friendship."

I take it, receiving the first thing I ever have from a 'friend.' There's this strange silence between us and it's not awkward but I suddenly feel like I've become a member of a super cool top secret club. I have to give her something back, and I search my pockets, only feeling lint. Damn lint. "Uh, here. Take this." I unfasten the watch from my wrist and hand it to her.

"You don't have to give me your watch…"

"It's ok, it's busted anyway. I won it out of a claw machine when I was 14, but it's the only thing I've ever won so I always hanged on to it. Unless you'd rather have a pair of my boxers, this is the closest I can get to giving you a piece of myself."

She laughs again, "This will work. See ya around, Vince. Let me know what time this weekend ok?"

"Will do." I saunter out, the piano music is quieting down, oddly fitting for the dissipation of the situation and I steal a glance back at her. She's milling around the flower beds again, a pursed smile still on her face. This weekend can't come soon enough.


End file.
